Splendid
by SaucyMongoose
Summary: About halfway through his fifth grade year, Craig realizes that there are good things in this world and then there are bad things. He has trouble placing Kenny in one of those categories.
1. Chapter 1

_Craig_

_"All my life my heart yearned for a thing I cannot name." –Andre Breton_

…

About halfway through his fifth grade year, Craig realizes that there are good things in this world and then there are bad things. Craig always finds himself placing all the people and objects around him in one of those categories. South Park is bad, the planet is even worse. He can barely find anything other than Red Racer and Stripe to put in the good category. Nothing has ever been able to meet the middle.

…

Clyde kisses Bebe, or maybe Bebe kisses Clyde- either way he tells Craig all about it during lunch. It's the new fifth grade fad; kissing. It's not something you want; it's something you _need_. Guys aren't cool if they don't kiss, if they don't get rid of their first-kiss-virginity. They'd be called pussies because everyone would assume they're afraid of cooties. Cooties are now immature. Craig figures it's most likely the same for girls.

Clyde takes a bite of his sandwich and says, "Everybody's doing it. Especially Kenny." Craig's eyebrows rise, Clyde nods. "Yeah, I swear. He's probably kissed every girl in the fifth grade."

"Even Bebe?"

Clyde's eyes widen; he stops chewing. Token chuckles.

That day, Red kisses Kenny, but it doesn't count because Kenny kisses everyone. So she kisses Craig at recess. The lip on lip contact makes her blush but he doesn't. His friends congratulate him on losing his first-kiss-virginity, but he doesn't feel any pride and they don't call it first-kiss-virginity; they don't know what virginity is yet. Instead, Craig licks his lips and tastes something he doesn't like.

Craig thinks kissing is a bad thing.

…

In class, no one listens; no one raises his or her hand to answer questions except Wendy, who is an overachiever. Craig waits for the next South Park catastrophe he can miss out on, or at least try to. Sometimes, he gets caught up in the stereotypical town drama and that's the worst feeling: the feeling of being stuck in a spider's web.

Other times, he has to team up with Kenny, the infamous female kisser, to finish class projects. That was primarily the entire school year, total wastes of time, class projects. The subject always varied, as it should. One project was about Abraham Lincoln, another was focused on American Revolution; whatever it was, Kenny never slacked on it which was sort of surprising. Craig notices his nice handwriting, the way he slouches when he works.

He never said too much, never said enough. The hood enveloping his mouth was more like a veil hiding lips and words too sacred or possibly too vulgar for a fifth grader. Craig didn't want to know what it could've been. He didn't want to know about Kenny. He didn't need to. Kenny was poor and quietly perverted. He knew enough.

But when Kenny looks at him, blue eyes staring deep into Craig's, it changes his mind but only for a fleeting instant.

"What?"

The next fleeting instant is Craig scrambling for the glue stick in the blonde's hand, a quick aversion of the eyes, and the slightest tinge of embarrassment Craig could have ever felt. He didn't feel it much because he's only a fifth grader and fifth graders don't know what fleeting instants are but in the stern of his mind it's still there.

The next instant is unremarkable for the both of them and deserves a middle finger to the face. "Nothing."

(Craig realizes that fleeting instants are bad things too)

…

When you're a fifth grader at recess, you don't do much. The younger kids run around and enjoy life, but you, being the fifth grader you are, just sit. You engage in pointless conversation with others sitting around you. Sometimes you walk around the playground and engage in pointless conversation. Sometimes you play kickball because that's just about the only recess game fifth graders play. As for Craig, he watches.

There's Stan, Cartman and Kyle feuding over whatever preposterous bullshit they feud about, and a blob of mud streaked orange otherwise known as Kenny are all residing on the playground's jungle gym. Craig wonders how the fat one got to the top, and how he's going to get down. The blonde one kicks his legs into the air beneath him, barely speaks a word. It's one of those rarer than rare days when some rogue short locks of Kenny's bangs make through his hood. It twitches in the chilly wind.

Craig doesn't really know why he watches. There's nothing to be jealous of. There's certainly nothing to look at. So Craig decides to look at Clyde who's eagerly rambling about Bebe, his _second_ kiss which he says is sort of a big deal.

…

Kenny kisses Wendy, but the blonde insists, "She kissed me."

Of course, Stan and Kenny's friendship deteriorates and leaves the hooded one at Craig's lunch table for a few days. They barely talk, just eat. Kenny devours all of food quickly; sometimes he asks Craig if he's going to eat his chicken patty. He always gives it to him.

When Stan gets back together with Wendy, Kenny is forgiven; he stops sitting at Craig's table, which is perfectly fine.

He doesn't feel much.

…

There was another class project in the spring, this time, about a book that neither Craig nor Kenny feel like reading. They both decide to watch the movie. Craig's dad rents it for him and the raven haired boy puts popcorn in the microwave because that's only right, right?

When Kenny arrives a few minutes before six, he only waves. He takes a seat on Craig's couch, denies the popcorn at first, but eventually eats it.

The movie is long and boring, something about George Washington. Craig can barely keep his eyes open. And Kenny, being the impulsive, curt kisser as he was, pecks his lips; he shoots adrenaline through the apathetic boy's veins. The split second lip to lip contact makes his muscles tighten, his dark eyes widen as they meet Kenny's.

"Don't fall asleep."

It's so simple, so short, and so sweet Craig doesn't say anything. He gives Kenny the finger, and cracks neck in an attempt to get rid of another tinge (Tinges are bad things too, especially when it comes to feelings) of embarrassment. But it was a kiss between two male fifth graders. It was Craig's second kiss, and tastes like popcorn butter. It was his second kiss and he thinks that it actually wasn't that big of a deal; it was still a bad thing. It would never be brought up again.

…

Craig can't tell if Kenny is bad or good. He convinces himself he doesn't care.

…

The summer begins with slightly perplexed sentiments for Craig.

In class, everyone talks about his or her summer plans. He doesn't have any. He writes his end of the year essay slowly, thinks about his handwriting. Occasionally he thinks about Kenny. He glances at him, but from his seat, Craig can only see the back of the blonde's hood. When he's bored he tries to narrow his eyes, see into Kenny's skull. It never works.

Craig doesn't think Kenny has any summer plans either.

On the last day of school, Kenny's not there. No one seems to miss him and no one seems to notice. Neither does Craig. He turns in his essay that day, a page long paper reiterating how "happy" he is to go on to middle school and eventually the rest of his life. Clyde cries which Craig thinks is absurd.

When he gets home, his father presents him a padlock; he can practice opening his locker. But Craig barely messes with it.

The break begins without Kenny.

…

_I'm most definitely going to continue this one. Just bear with me!_


	2. Chapter 2

_Kenny_

_"Love is composed of a single soul inhabiting two bodies." -Aristotle_

…

During the summer, Kenny kisses more soon-to-be sixth graders than he could count. A soon-to-be seventh grader kisses him, which was fun, because she really knew how to kiss. But the times when he could get away with just kisses faded away as soon as sixth grade began. Girls wanted commitment, relationships, boyfriends.

He couldn't give that yet.

So Clyde Donovan got his first girlfriend, Bebe, Kenny figured out how to open his locker without any practice, and Stan finds the perfect lunch table. It's far away from Wendy, but not too far away from Wendy, which is good and basically describes their entire relationship. It's two lunch tables away from Craig's and it's under a flickering light. It bothers the blonde at first, but he gets accustomed to it.

The teachers are just as useless as the last, and the syllabuses are more extensive than they need to be. They're all printed on colorful paper, like they're actually important. The passing times seem like hours instead of minutes. Craig has a seat right next to him in English and in Social Studies, which is kind of surprising.

They barely say anything to each other. Instead, Craig's eyes meet Kenny's- or maybe Kenny's eyes meet Craig's. It's like their eyes are having some sort of affair and it happens way more than once. Every time the blonde's blue orbs meet the dark and stoic pools of Craig's, he smiles.

It's something Kenny learned how to do over the summer, smile more. Girls like it when he smiles, even if they can only see the rise in his cheeks. And Kenny likes girls; they're sort of his thing, so it's a win-win for everyone except Craig. The raven haired boy flips him off every time he flashes his grin.

Kenny doesn't kiss a girl on the first day of sixth grade, which is also the first day of a three year trilogy called middle school.

Some people forget that.

…

Summer fades into fall quickly- so quickly Kenny almost forgets how to play like a normal kid. There's no recess in middle school and everyone's making the imperfect transition into adolescence. Some of the symptoms include a disinterest for the toys you had before, and a disinterest for the outside and staying out there until sunset. Kenny never had a lot of toys so that barely fazes him, but his friends don't meet at the pond or the park as much.

There's not much to do except think. So the blonde lies on his mattress, which is on the floor, and ponders about life itself. Actually, Kenny either thinks about females or Craig; he realizes that they have similarities. Sometimes, he thinks about the moon and the stars and how they could've possibly aligned to rest him here in South Park, immortal and hooded.

The trees' leaves emulate his desire: dying, wanting to be understood, believed. They falter in the wind, fall to the ground like angels, and wither there. When Kenny walks, they crunch and remind him of everything he's ever known.

…

"Kenny, let's break up."

He gets a girlfriend. She's pure, perfect, blonde, and unwilling. She has long slender fingers and she always wants to hold his hand. She never frowned when she's around Kenny. She was forever smiling, sweet and syrupy. She sticks to him.

They never kiss, never do anything vulgar. They never fight, but what do sixth grade couples argue about?

"Sure."

When they break up, a week after they first started dating, she smiles. There's no heartache, no residual effects. When people ask questions, Kenny just shrugs. It was all very simple: their relationship, the way she said his name, the manner in which she looked at him. There was nothing special between them and Kenny wonders what special actually is.

How do you obtain a special connection with someone? How do you know that it's there?

…

In Social Studies, Kenny learns about Julius Caesar. Everything about him is boring, but his death was pretty cool. Caesar was betrayed by his own people, even his right hand man, Brutus. In fact, Caesar resists his attackers, but after seeing Brutus among them, he resigns to his fate. He says, "Et tu, Brute?"

And then he dies.

Kenny thinks that Brutus felt horrible for the rest of his life and then some.

If Kenny could die and stay dead, he'd want a death similar to that. He'd want to be heavy on someone's mind, even after he had passed- not because that someone had betrayed him, but because he was just too important to let go.

No one remembers, but Kenny wants them too. He looks at Craig and wonders if he ever could. Then he realizes that he hasn't died in quite some time.

..

When Kenny goes to Stan's house, for whatever reason, he has to pass by Craig's house. Unlike many houses in South Park, especially Kenny's, the raven haired sixth grader's home is relatively quiet. The drapes are always closed, the snow outside is always undisturbed. The blonde feels bad for leaving tracks in the snow, upsetting the peace. Peace is a nice thing to have, Kenny knows that.

He wonders if Craig ever looks out of his window; if he ever comes outside and sees the footsteps he left. He wonders if Craig knows that those are his footsteps, no one else's.

…

Autumn melds into winter.

Kenny sleeps in his parka. As Christmas break nears, he feels weary. He's not expecting anything.

...

_So this is going well right? This was sort of a lead-up for next chapter so it's kind of boring I suppose. But please, share your thoughts!  
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_Thank you to everyone who has read, favorited or reviewed! I appreciate it; I'm really thankful.  
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	3. Chapter 3

_Craig_

_"The love we give away is the only love we keep." –Elbert Hubbard_

…

Craig isn't much of a conversationalist; he's more of an observant introversive piece of shit. Sixth grade is surprisingly eye opening, exceedingly blunt. By the end of his first semester in sixth grade, which is also his first semester of middle school, Craig can look into a mirror and see things he would've never noticed in elementary.

Craig thinks he's losing color in his cheeks, he found a gray hair in his chullo; he's only twelve. There is no youthfulness, no good in middle school, not for him. There's only holier than thou eighth graders, bitchy seventh grade girls who want to make out with Kenny (who's always ever so innocent), and sixth graders who want to fit in with the crowd, find themselves, and break the simple unity and accord everyone once had in his and her younger years. Craig doesn't think he's one of those sixth graders.

Between Goth kids, nerds, and preps and jocks, Craig would say he's a solid "I don't give a shit." Clyde admires, Token laughs, Tweak screams, "Don't you know? _They can hear you_." He has a deep paranoia of eighth graders, for whatever reason.

As for Craig's observant eyes, his introversive and shitty eyes, they see everything. From Stan's constant and lovey-dovey glances to the slightly pink shaded Wendy, to Cartman's glares at Kyle for whatever laughable bullshit he suspects him for, to Kenny's subtle self conduct.

If he's not reading porn behind his English or "Western World" book, bright blue eyes widening every few pages, he's drawing dicks on his class work. And if he's not trying to flirt with Red in English or trying to cover up his stomach grumbles, he's picking at the etching of "bastards" on his desk. It's Kenny's artistry, of course.

"Bastards?"

It slips one day, crackly. Puberty, probably.

The blonde looks at him and then glances out of the big middle school windows, the fresh winter snow falling outside, the world spinning round and round. Craig can see those familiar rogue blonde locks, but they're not twitching in the breeze; there is no breeze, just the hum of the older than life heater. He can feel the veracity in his eyes, restless pools of ocean blue reflecting individual snowflakes from the world that's in grasp but so far away. He can see his long, pretty eyelashes and he just knows- but Kenny simply shrugs.

The two boys' eyes linger on each other for a fleeting moment, a second so short it felt like forever, and then Kenny's eyes drift away, back out to sea.

Craig's muscles tense. He feels something yank on his left heart string, something he hadn't felt since fifth grade, adrenaline.

…

A week before winter break and the middle school world was still hard at work. "Those fucking fifth graders are probably living the life," Cartman comments. Craig thinks that's probably just the way things are. The older you get, the more life you live, the more you realize what you had in the past. And just _how_ old is Craig feeling?

A lot older than he actually is.

So Mr. Wieze, the English teacher that reminds many former eighth grade and seventh grade of a "kiddie fiddler," hands out the assignment. The pink paper- South Park Junior High always runs out of white copy paper- says, "Write a page long paper describing snow, winter, the holidays, etc." And Craig is just thrilled; he just adores assignments like this.

Honest.

Wendy Testaburger, the resident overachieving snob, hands her paper in first. She wrote that snow is "ineffably ephemeral, inexplicably angelic." She says it makes her feel "lightweight." The English teacher reads it to the whole class, the classes after Craig's class. He went on and on for days about the beauty of her description of snow, how a simple sixth grader could conjure up lines so spectacular and Craig thought that was bullshit.

After you've been around South Park for long enough, snow becomes tiring. You see it all the time and you just end up hating it. In all twelve years of life, Craig has never loved the sight of the cold crystallized form of water that just stays and stays. Snow is not ephemeral at all. Snow is not angelic. Snow is a bitch that falls from the sky and makes it hard to drive. That's just the way things are.

Craig is the sixth person to turn in his paper. He passes Kenny on the way to Mr. Wieze. The blonde has only one word on his paper.

"Why"

And Craig can't explain why. He can't say the whys for anything. He can't explain the mysteries of the world, why anyone would consider snow so lovely. He can't explain why Wendy is an overachieving snob, why Stan could like someone like that, why Clyde cries _so hard_ when he watches Bambi, or why Mr. Wieze has a very suggestive mustache. He's not a genius and he really knows it when he passes Kenny, looks at Kenny, becomes aware of Kenny's presence.

He can't say why the sight of Kenny is "ineffable"; he can't explain how ephemeral and inexplicably angelic he is. When Craig looks at him, the planet seems to stop and all of those fleeting instants the moments that seem like forever pile on him at once, and Craig can say that a real fucking angel has somehow made his way from heaven and landed in South Park. That's just how things are.

Honest.

…

Before Craig can notice, Friday pops up on the calendar, the last day before winter break. Kenny disappears between Social Studies and English and Craig even wonders why he's surprised. This must happen often, but he's never really discerned the blonde's frequent absences in years before.

The etching of "bastards" glares at him, like he's done something seriously heinous. Or maybe it's staring at him like he should **know**.

Know what?

By the end of school, Craig feels ambiguous.

…

"What do you think?"

Behind the glass, the really thick store window, there's a jersey signed by some famous football player priced at two hundred dollars but Craig-

"I really don't care."

Clyde gives him the look; Craig shrugs. He kicks the snow near his sneakers, his colder than ice and ungloved hands residing in his small jacket pockets. There's weary snow on his shoulders; they've been out here for years it seems and Craig's trying his best not to shiver. He sighs, "I mean, you told them you wanted it right?"

"A million times." Clyde's voice cracks.

"Then they're probably going to get it for you."

"But-but… What if they don't?" The brunette boy's voice cracks again, but Craig can tell- he can always tell- it's not from torturous puberty.

"I swear, if you fucking cry-"

It was too late.

…

"Are you better now?"

Clyde nods his eyes red and puffy. He takes a sip of his chocolate milkshake, sniffs. There's a silence between them and it's not one of those awkward silences Craig always has with a certain blonde. It's a friendly silence. Craig fiddles with the drawstring on his jacket, Clyde sniffs some more.

"Do you need a tissue?"

Clyde glances away, as if his friend had just insulted him, "No, no! I'm fine… Hey isn't that Kenny?" He points at a mud streaked sack of orange leaving the convenience store. There's a transient glow around him, the twitch of rogue blonde locks. Of course it's Kenny. It's always Kenny isn't it?

"You know," Clyde says it like it's a scandal, and it probably is, "Kenny's been on a kissing streak. The seventh grade girls are crazy for him… I'm jealous."

Craig doesn't say anything. Nothing at all.

…

Due to welfare (something Craig is accustomed to by now), there weren't any cookies on Christmas. Just eggnog.

Eggnog thick as dreadful snow.

The taste lingers in Craig's throat longer than expected. He lingered in his new Red Racer pajamas longer than his parents expected, watched his new HD Red Racer Season 12 DVD (his favorite season) set more times than thought possible. He wondered about Clyde and Christmas for a minute, if he got the jersey he wanted so much. He pondered about Kenny and his Christmas for a few seconds, if anything had changed.

And then New Years comes.

Twelve o'clock strikes and Craig's dad pops open the sparkling grape juice in the kitchen. Taylor Swift is dancing with Drake in New York and everything is all happy- even Ruby is smiling, her pigtails all perky. But Craig is thinking again. His hand is plastered on his pale cheek and his mind gears on whirring to paint a perfect picture of Kenny making out with some seventh grade girl.

The thought is unnecessary, but voluntary. The sigh that comes afterward is not.

He goes to bed early that night of the New Year, his head full of visions of the last time he saw Kenny, or more like the hood of his parka enveloping his being. And Craig knows he's always looking at the profile of the blonde, matted fake fur and the glow of something special. So he imagines the next time he sees him, what that would be like, what would change.

…

After two weeks of nothingness, Red Racer, thick and eventually expired eggnog, and redundant thoughts that made Craig want to throw his brain out of the window; he realizes that if he can't beat him, he must join him. He doesn't need to elucidate who "him" is.

It takes him a while to build up the courage to say anything, which is weird. He's Craig Tucker, right? So in Social Studies, as soon as the bell rings, he grasps Kenny's parka sleeve.

"Kenny-" Oh _God_, when has he ever said his name? It feels all kinds of right on his tongue and then it melts.

The blonde's bright ocean blue eyes met his shitty, observant, and introversive pools and he wants to scream, "My name is Craig Tucker! I'm twelve years old! I have guinea pig named Stripe, but when I was younger I wanted a dog like Clyde! I watch Red Racer everyday at five o'clock on the dot! I got all A's and one _fucking_ B on my report card and it really pisses me off!"

But he doesn't.

"Hey, we could go catch a pizza sometime or…"

Kenny waves a hand.

"Just walk home with me."

They walk home together, snow crunching underneath their sneakers, snowflakes that feel like the weight of the world falling on their shoulders. Craig sticks his icy hands in his blue pockets when he realizes that whatever distance, however giant or tiny the gap was between them was disappearing, crumbling away right before his very eyes and he decided to let it happen.

...

_This chapter was really hard. I couldn't really place myself in a sixth grade mindset, I guess. I dunno._

_But it's DONE. AND THIS STORY IS GOING TO GET BETTER. I PROMISE._


End file.
